Fire light flickered across the rock face, illuminating the swirling carvings. The bonfire was huge, stacked high with dead timber and wild with an energy only the fuel of shed feathers could provide. The light inside the fire pit competed with the setting sun as it lit the sky with brilliant oranges and pink. The pit, a natural deep depression in the land, hosted the fire which was being tended by a half dozen Alecani. High stone walls protected outside village from most stray embers, and the surrounding rock had natural platforms that had been worn with ages of use. This fire pit had been host to hundreds of Tahn festivals. As the sun went down, more and more Alecani showed up, filling the platforms with tables of food and drink, setting up instruments, even a few dancers and performers starting early. A ribbon dancer shared ribbons with a few kits and proceeded to keep their attention while their parents helped to set up. Everyone was ready to celebrate a bountiful harvest, and to have one last feast before the winter took over.

More than that, the Tahn festival was about renewal. This time of year all Alecani across the continent shed their summer fur and grow a new coat for the change of season. In this high village, winter blankets the canyons and twisted pines in thick white snow. Here, they also molt their feathers in the autumn, and each native Alecani casts off their summer color to match the coming winter landscape. The shed feathers are burned to symbolize burning their old selves and old problems, starting anew. The initial fire is an enormous thing, but after the festival it's kept alight through the cold winter. During the cold months the fire pit serves as a place for everyone to stop by and warm their bones, locals and travelers alike.

Nym hadn't put hers into the fire yet, she sat with a hand on the basket filled with her shed summer feathers and fur. All her winter feathers had grown in a creamy white, but she was still shedding clumps of red-brown fur. Patches of her winter coat came through, giving her a piebald look. Many of the other villagers looked the same, few had their full winter coat in yet. She started to pick at a patch of un-shed summer fur, then quickly stopped remembering the many scoldings from her parents as a kit. A few of the summer feathers she kept, some tied into her fur. In the winter the summer colors nicely accent the paleness of an Alecani's coat.

The colors in the sky deepened into purples and reds, and somewhere in the pit a flute player started an easy going tune. More and more Alecani showed up with baskets of their sheddings, chatting and passing tea around. An older, slender female Alecani offered Nym a cup of spiced orange tea. She was known for her uncanny ability to cultivate citris in an area where it didn't thrive naturally. She had never had any kits of her own, but her niece had taken up a keen interest in the cultivation of the citris plants. The young kit could be seen a few platforms away passing out samples of the tea. So, the family secret would be passed on after all, Nym thought. She accepted the cup graciously, and inhaled deeply. This year's blend smelled amazing! The zing of the orange and heat of the spice started to wake her up, her fur prickled. The Autumn molting festival was always incredibly fun, the energy high among the villagers. With the sun setting, and the stars starting to come out.

FWOOSH! The fire sparked and roiled, and hoots of excitement could be heard across the pit. Someone had dived in and dumped almost half their sheddings into the fire, causing it to rise suddenly. A jaunty drum beat started up, the flute player picked up his tune, yips of joy mingling in. Nym whooped once, spilling some of her tea. A small pang of regret made her sit back down and carefully enjoy the rest of the seasonal tea, which she knew had limited supplies.

"Haha, getting a little too excited there?" Fallyn, Nym's brother approached with his basket of sheddings and sat down. Nym grumbled a little, but it wasn't genuine annoyance. Even though they were no longer kits, Nym and her brother still sometimes behaved immaturely around one another. "I see you have some of Sela's orange tea? Where can I get some, I think I missed her passing it out."

"You can have the rest of mine," she offered the half drained cup to her brother, which he accepted and sipped at. The ribbon dancer who had been occupying the young kits had been joined by two other dancers, and the youngsters had been ushered to the children's platform. They were small enough that their flight feathers hadn't grown in yet, and they needed a lot of supervision. But the Tahn festival was for everyone in the village, even the small ones. When they were old enough to fly, they would be able to throw in their sheddings to the fire by themselves.

One more Alecani swooped in and tossed a handful of their sheddings in, followed by another, and then another. The music had picked up, and Nym found herself itching to get into the sky. "C’mon, before it gets too crowded!" She tugged at her brother's wing. He shot her a nasty look mid-gulp, finishing off the last of the tea with a smack of his lips.

"Aaah, good stuff!" He stood up, patted his stomach and puffed his chest up, looking up to the fire with a grin. Without warning he shot up into the night sky, leaving Nym behind.

"Hey!" She shouted and sprung after him, "You forgot to return your cup, you jerk!"

The air was filled with Alecani of all ages, carrying their shed baskets. Some circled more calmly, throwing handfuls of shed fur and feathers in far from the dangerous heat of the flames. The young and daring dove as close to the fire as they could, and zipping away before the sparks from their thrown sheddings could touch them. Nym wasn't a kit any more, she no longer struggled to keep up with her big brother. With a few powerful strokes of her wings she caught up with him easily, dodging a youngster who wasn't watching before reaching him. Clearly he expected to have left her far behind, the shock on his face when she passed him and snagged a single feather from his basket gave Nym a smug sense of satisfaction.

Nym climbed higher than the crowd started to circle and survayed the scene below. Fallyn joined her and tried to snatch his feather back from her, but she rolled away yelling, "this one's mine, brother!" fierce joy filling her voice. She tucked her wings and dropped, the hot air of the fire rushing up at her. The same youngster Nym had to dodge earlier had to brake to avoid a collision, as she let gravity carry her into the crowd and closer to the flames. She heard Fallyn call in alarm behind her, genuine worry behind his voice. She grasped the stolen feather in her hand tightly, flared her wings and changed direction. Leveling out, allowing the flames lick at her belly as she dragged the feather through the inferno, the speed of her dive carried her too quickly to allow the flames to hurt her. The feather ignited at it's tip, she pulled away, curving up at a sharp angle to avoid colliding with the rock wall. With a few more pumps her her wings she was almost as high as she was before, letting the heat of the fire carry her up. Almost level with Fallyn, she let out a bellow of victory and let the feather burn down to her upheld paw, leaving ashes in the air. Her call was answered by cries and cheers from the crowd, all ecstatic about her stunt. She glided unscathed, back into a circling pattern.

Her brother approached, "Gods, you had me worried! Where did you learn how to do THAT one?"

Memories of meeting a young messenger by the name of Chickadee breezed over her conciousness. "I pick up a lot more than stories and supplies in my job, Fal" she said, panting and smiling. She shook her paw, the heat from the fire had singed her a little.

"You're not invincible I see," Fallyn said smugly.

"And you’re too slow to keep your little sister from making your first burn of the night for you?" Nym was cut off by her brother snatching a handful of feathers from her basket and flapping away. "You still haven’t returned your cup!" she called, and gave chase.

The smells of autumn foods and the orange spice tea wafted through the air, the fire raged on, and the excitement continued under the now starry night sky. The Tahn festival was going to be full of great stories to tell this winter.